PS 3501 
154 P7 


1920 




* O H O * 0 ' *'•/■> 

y-^j. J '^?:^fiBM(l^::7 «> ,'3'^v * .^V’ 


,'*■ cv 

s<y * 





V^ -vO 

C <* "^Lk, A^ ^ 

^ • (^ 19 ■ ■• 


o 'o. * - A <v '"v't; , ^ 0^ -o 'o. '* <* ^ 

t' - . '^o o ° . -' • ^ '^o c « * 

* ■» ^ . ■<" rV -r ^ .I'O’ 

* « 

O V 





o jp ' '' 

o « o ,0 ,o • , 1 ^ O^ o « o .0 « , 

.0^ «‘!,*^' ^ v^ av 

“♦7^-;%' ^ ^ **'"•*'*^ 

O"*- <5^. 0^ i*''J»L‘* i'*’' 




4 O. 

V 

♦ tv 

., I • ■ 

v^ c> 

4. *'.(a^4f^<* a'O V 



• • > 


\ ^ N- A 




•TT.*’ aO V • 

* ^ O 


• .* <0^ .75^^,' X 

Q^ co"^^ '^O 

- - - 





«. 0 ^ 


I q 


v^ 



» «>» 4 *^ ^ 


^b V 

iO 


•• • 

• ‘S y < ci» '* 

, '•>•>■* ^0 • 

% -f C° .'^*' °o 





*^.’V v*^' y -fr®' 

'•®- c^ <0 **V1'^ V n’*®^ *0^ ***A 

c'^^ .^SM^k. -e. A^ ; 

« o 

V ” <b^ 'o,^* ,G^ -c^. 'o* 

> <x _ <* A> 




<J> *’ c w o 



> ^9 

XV ° 4 . •■•'’* A° *•«»’ xV 

X ^ A*^ '’4 

' 'W ! 

• » ' 4 VJ ■'•••’ V» «•» X V v^ ■ . 4 

xV * - - A> ... .rxV « (. fl 




^< 9 ^ *' O ho'^ ^ ♦ 


rT-.*’ aO 

. o. jy 'v <> -t. 



V * 

: : 

• cP ^r\ ”* 

‘ ♦ A? ^ . 

■* '*. 

O • )L * 4 0 ' 















■OP.^ 


















PRAIRIE POEMS 
FROM 

THE SUNFLOWER STATE 

B Y 

LOTTIE BROWN ALLEN 


GRAFTERS PUBLISHING CO, 
Kansas City, Mo. 











V 


Copyright^ 1920, by Mrs. T. G. Allen 


DEC 27 1920 

\ 


§)CU604712 

















Dedication . 7 

Sunflowers . 9 

Kansas Day. 10 

October .:.11 

The Old, Old Story.12 

San Francisco _ 15 

Kansas Dreams . 18 

What Christmas Means . 22 

The Old Wash Place...24 

Reverie . 29 

Christmas Tide. 32 

To a Friend. 33 

A Gingerbread Story. 35 

A Kansas Prayer.... 37 

Our Heroes . 39 

Two Mothers .-.40 

Christmas Carol....-.44 

Kansas .......-.46 



















































TO 

THE DEAR PIONEER MOTHER 
WHO HAS EVER BEEN TO ME A SOURCE OF 
ENCOURAGEMENT AND INSPIRATION 
THIS LITTLE BOOK 
IS 

LOVINGLY DEDICATED 


-7 - 








o 












SUNFLOWERS 


Up from the wayside damp and cold 
Cut of the early Kansas mold 
Blossomed the sunflowers, green and gold, 

Eastward turning at dawn’s first light 
Hourly drinking the sunbeams bright 
Westward waving a fond goodnight. 

Kissed by the sunshine and the dew 
Under the Kansas skies of blue 
Like unto sunflowers, the children grew. 

Bright eyes greeting the sun’s first ray 
Small hands eager for work or play 
Young hearts singing the livelong day. 

Kansas sunflowers happy and free 
Men and women that grew to be 
Builders of Kansas destiny. 


- 9 - 









KANSAS DAY 


0, Kansas Land! Fair Kansas Land! 
We come thy birthday morn to greet, 
To fling fresh laurels at thy feet. 

0, central gem of our great land, 
Loved spot of the united band; 

We hail this day, our Kansas Land. 

Thou art our pride, dear Kansas Land, 
Sweet peace and liberty are ours. 

0, land of luscious fruits and flowers. 
Of peaceful homes on hill and plain. 

Of lowing herds and waving grain. 

Of cities fair, on every hand. 

As now in joy and pride we stand. 
May we, thy children not forget. 

But treasure in fond memory yet. 

The awful price that has been paid. 
The bitter tears that have been shed 
For thy broad acres, Kansas Land. 

And unto Him whose guiding hand 
With sorrow's tears did christen thee 
And shape thy glorious destiny, 

Let there from us today arise 
Melodious anthems to the skies 
From out thy borders, Kansas Land. 


-lO- 







OCTOBER 


0, golden days! 0, quiet, peaceful days! 

October’s winsome voice we now can hear, 

While all around, her magic wand she plays, 

To consummate the crowning of the year. 

Behold her ’mid a wealth of golden sheaves, 

Most glorious month of all the year, she stands. 
Upon her brow a wreath of crimson leaves. 

While purple clusters fill her outstretched hands. 

How could we know that when the flower-strewn 
spring 

And all the happy summer days were past, 
October would this golden mantle fling 
To warm our hearts e’er comes the winter’s blast. 

Then linger on, fair days of golden light. 

And grant to leave in us an after glow, 

That shall shine on throughout the winter night. 
That shall not pale before the winter snow. 










THE OLD, OLD STORY 


Joyfully the hours were speeding, 

And the children, all unheeding 
Flitted gaily to and fro. 

At the farmhouse making merry. 

Hanging sprays of holly berry 
And the magic mistletoe. 

Dear old Grandma, meanwhile sitting 
In the firelight with her knitting. 
Sometimes joining in their glee. 

Spoke at last in gentle measure 
And they came with smiles of pleasure 
To their places at her knee. 

'‘Come, my dears, and 'round me gather 
For without is wintry weather. 

But within is warmth and cheer. 

Lay aside your pastimes yonder 
And the Old, Old Story ponder. 

As the Christmastide draws near. 

“Long ago, in bygone ages. 

Oft we read from sacred pages. 

Shepherds watched their flocks by night. 
When a beauteous angel found them, 

And his glory shone around them, 

Till they trembled with affright. 


-1 2- 








“But he said, '0 Shepherds, hear me! 

Do not flee, but come ye near me. 

Goodly tidings do I bring. 

List ye to the wondrous story, 

Christ, the Lord of light and glory. 

Unto you is born, a King. 

“ 'Have ye, then, no thought of danger. 

Ye shall find him in a manger 
Near the inn of Bethlehem.' 

And e're he had ceased the story. 

Heavenly hosts were singing, ‘Glory, 

On earth peace, good will to men.' 

“And you know, dears, how they sought Him, 
And of gifts the wise men brought Him, 

As they journeyed from afar. 

Seeking for that Babe of Glory, 

Never doubting once, the story, 

Guided by a single star. 

“And each year, all gloom dispelling. 

Sweeter growing in the telling. 

This old story, ever new, 

Points to Bethlehem's star that brightly 
Shines above to guide us rightly, 

Shines, my dears, for me and you. 


-13- 









“When the Christmas bells are ringing 
Our hearts' choicest treasures bringing, 
Humbly may we offer then, 

And with angels of the story 
We may sing the songs of glory, 

Teace on earth, good will to men.' " 


I 


-1 4 - 







SAN FRANCISCO 


A mighty nation mourns today 
A ruined city on the bay. 

But yester-eve the sunset shone 
Thro’ Golden Gate on spire and dome 
And seemed to linger and caress 
The city in its loveliness. 

Yet none could know and none could tell 
It was the sunset’s last farewell. 

No warning breathed the shades of night 
That crept around the city bright, 

And silently each twinkling star 
Shed its soft radiance from afar. 
Perchance a Savior’s eyes looked down 
In grief upon the stricken town. 

Perchance His arms stretched forth again 
As they did o’er Jerusalem. 

Oh, wonderful is mystery! 

That veil thro’ which we cannot see. 

Thus came the awful earthquake shock 
That caused those massive walls to rock. 
To sway and totter and to fall. 

While smoke and flame engulfed them all. 
Too horrible for tongue to tell 
Or pen to picture it as well. 

For many perished in the fall 
Nor answered back to loving call. 

Swiftly the wires from state to state 


-1 5 - 









Foretold the city’s awful fate. 

We who could read of foreign wars, 
Destruction on Italian shores, 

Now stand too dumb to cry or moan 
That this should happen to our own; 

For who is there from shore to shore 
But hath some loved one there, or more? 

Or hath he not, what heart so cold 
That could at such a time withhold— 

If there remaineth aught of good— 

The love of common brotherhood? 

And when our daily paths we trod 
A Nation’s prayers went up to God 
That blessed Father of us all. 

Who noteth every sparrow’s fall. 

“Be merciful, dear Lord,” we plead, 
“Sustain them in their time of need.” 

From out that fiery furnace there. 

Where brave men toiled nor would despair, 
Methinks a Shepherd called his flock 
Away from flame and earthquake shock; 
Away He led their wandering feet 
Where flowers bloomed, ’mid grasses sweet; 
And there He bade their tears be dried; 

To pitch their tents and to abide. 

Three hundred thousand souls were there 
Dependent on His tender care. 

Another story comes to me. 

Another scene beside the sea. 


-1 6- 








The time is evening, calm and sweet; 

A multitude at Jesus’ feet; 

Hungry and weary with the day, 

He would not send them thus away. 
Turning to his disciples near, 

He spoke in tones so soft and clear 
That we, too, hear those accents sweet, 
"‘What hast thou here for them to eat?” 
Gladly we answer to His call 
‘'Dear Lord, there is enough for all.” 
Thus may our prayers, the tears we shed 
For San Francisco’s ashy bed 
Refresh our land from shore to shore 
And make it better than before. 

Our Father knoweth while we plead 
Of what His children most have need. 


-17- 








KANSAS DREAMS 


Oh, beautiful Kansas, whose autumn days 
Are agieam with October's glow. 

Whose hills are crowned with a purple haze 
That kisses the vales below; 

My thoughts fly away to the land of dreams, 

To the days of long ago; 

And, dreaming, I seem to understand 
And can tell why I love you so. 

Back through a vista of bygone years. 

From under your sunny skies, 

Beyond the reach of my memory 
Come my mother’s lullabies. 

As she sits in her home on the banks of the Kaw 
At the close of an autumn day. 

Rocking her babe while she softly sings 
Low snatches of “Nellie Gray.” 

Around her twilight shadows creep. 

While in slumber the baby lies; 

But the mother has no thought of sleep. 

And lifting her trustful eyes 
“Through difficulties,” beyond “the stars” 

Her whispered prayers arise, 

That her slumbering babe may never know 
The terrible blight of war; 

-1 8 - 










That future joys may soon blot out 
Dark days that have gone before; 

That God in His mercy will safely shield 
The absent one whom she knew 

Must spend that night on the battlefield 
In his “Army Coat of Blue”. 

Oh, beautiful glimpse of the mother love 
That today I so plainly see; 

It is hidden away in the vanished past 
And revealed in my dreams to me. 

Soft, shadowy wings seem to carry me 
Through the still of that autumn night. 

Till afar in the distance I dimly see 
The flicker of camp-fires bright. 

Strange and wild is the thrilling scene 
As it bursts upon my view— 

The camp-fires lit in the long ago 
By the then “Brave Boys in Blue”. 

And faintly borne through the starry night 
What falls on my listening ear? 

I eagerly strain for a better sight. 

0, would that I were more near! 

Is it the murmuring grasses low. 

Or the fitful night wind's moan? 

Ah! 'tis “Never forget the Dear Ones 
That cluster 'round thy home”. 


-1 9 - 








They are singing of home, 0, Kansas land! 

They are here for their homes and thee; 

Facing a battlefield they stand 
For “Union and Liberty'’. 

Tenderly treasure them on thy breast 
Who fell in that cause so true; 

Scatter bright flowers where they sweetly rest— 
Our dear ones who wore the blue. 

And whether with golden sunbeams fair, 

Or the patter of raindrops wild. 

Sing to them while they slumber there. 

As a mother sings to her child. 

And again sometimes in my dreams I see 
Broad stretches of prairie grand. 

Reaching away to the sunny skies; 

Entrancing on every hand. 

And, seeking wild flowers with the butterflies 
Flits a joyous child, care-free; 

While she sings from her soul with the happy birds, 
“My Country ’Tis of Thee”. 

Fair Kansas! thy present is just as dear 
As the past can ever be. 

But beautiful dreams of the days that are gone 
Will ever come back to me; 

And whenever from out thy portals wide 
My footsteps chance to roam 


-20- 










My heart will thrill with a sense of pride 
At the measures of “Home Sweet Home’’. 

And whether I dwell in my native clime, 

Or over the distant sea, 

I ever, as now, shall hold thee mine. 

For I am a part of thee. 


-2 1 - 









WHAT CHRISTMAS MEANS 


The Christmas time has come again, 

It comes but once a year, 

And that is why to boys and girls 
It is the time most dear. 

It means just lots and lots of things 
And though I’m small, you see, 

I know it doesn’t mean the same 
To you, it does to me. 

I’ve noticed when we children tell 
Queer tales of old Saint Nick 
That baby listens wonderingly 
And leaves his playthings quick 
To hear how the old fellow comes 
A-dashing in his sleigh 
Along the house-tops every one 
In such a funny way. 

And how through every chimney black. 
So far, far down below. 

He bravely bears his shining pack 
To fill each stocking row. 

Then baby clasps his little hands 
And laughs and shouts with glee. 

To him it means a fairy land 
Of Christmas mystery. 


- 22 - 







When little sister gaily sings 
About the Christmas-tide, 

Of lovely dolls old Santa brings 
And picture books beside, 

And when she dreams of Christmas trees. 

Her stockings hanging near, 

I know it means that Christmas day 
Is best of all the year. 

To boys like me, that’s older grown 
It means a great deal more. 

There’s knives and sleds and skates and things 
And story books galore. 

And then in our dear Sunday School 
We learn another thing 
About the Babe of Bethlehem— 

The birthday of our King. 

But when we see our mother’s smile 
Hear father’s words of cheer 
As they bid friends to ’bide awhile 
Within our gates each year 
As Christmas time is drawing on 
The meaning’s plainer then. 

It speaks to them of '‘Peace on Earth” 

And of “Good will to men”. 


- 23 - 










THE OLD WASH PLACE 
(By Judd Mortimer Lewis, used by permission.) 


She was such a little mother, so absurdly young, 
that while 

Tears are trembling on my lashes, at her memory 
I smile. 

At the very youngness of her; just a little girl she 
seems. 

Smiling at me from the distance, singing to me 
in my dreams 

Lullabies we all remember; but I mostly see her face 

Smiling through the clouds of steam that almost 
hide the old wash place. 

Sometimes in my dreams, a dogwood blossom glim¬ 
mers in her hair. 

And I hear a redbird whistle, and the dream is 
free from care— 

Then a man comes in the picture, like a dream, and 
goes away. 

Waving to the little mother from the ranks of 
men in gray; 

And from then the dogwood blossoms never glimmer 
any more, 

And the redbird sings no longer ’round the wash 
place as of yore. 


- 24 - 








Three of us—and just the little bit o’ mother to the 
brood 

Singing while her heart was breaking in the 
woodland solitude 

With the homely tubs and kettle and the soap gourd 
and the stick, 

The old battling stick! The memory catches at my 
throat so quick 

That I scarce can choke the sob back at the picture 
of the face 

Smiling bravely from the distance through the 
steam of the wash place. 

Yes, I carried water for her wliile the baby went 
to sleep 

With the songs that sister sung her where the 
wash lay in a heap. 

And I sought dry sticks and piled them ’neath the 
kettle—all my joy 

In the dreams that come back to me is that I was 
born a boy. 

And could help the little mother and was glad to 
help her, too. 

In the tasks about the wash place where there 
was so much to do. 

Can wee babies understand it when a heart’s about 
to break? 

We were babies, but we seemed to know, somehow. 


- 25 - 









for mother’s sake f 

We must help to bear a burden which we could not || 
comprehend, 1 

And our puny arms about her seemed to strength- 

en her and lend f 

Her a strength no little bit of mother could have 

got elsewhere t 

As she toiled about the wash place with her heart f 
bowed down with care. il 

Some days tasks seemed overdreary, and the hours j 
seemed overlong; ^ 

But she’d catch our eyes fixed on her and would [ 
tremble into song, V 

But the world of heartbreak throbbing through the j 
counterfeited joy 


Somehow would play on the heartstrings of the & 
little girl and boy | 

And the little baby sister, and we’d snuggle face to 

face, i f 

Heart to heart, her arms about us, kneeling at the t 
old wash place. 


Then one morning came a message, came in with the 
morning’s gleam; 

How it came is lost or hidden in the shadows of 
the dream. 

But with it, hope went out from her, and she seemed 
to hark no more 


- 26 - 








For a voice across the distance, for a footstep at 
the door; 

And she kneeled there in the wash place, kneeled 
with sister girl and me. 

And I know now that that moment was her souks 
Gethsemane! 

Then the washings came more often, there were 
other heaps of clothes; 

Day by day the clouds of sudsy steam from the 
old kettle rose, 

Day by day her love grew stronger; in the worry 
and the smart 

Of her heartache she would rush to and would 
clasp us to her heart, 

And she’d strive to coax her lips to curve into a 
snatch of song— 

But the wash place called and called her, and its 
tasks were hard and long. 

Not long since, I heard a woman say in sneering 
tones and low, 

“Huh! his mother did our washing, my own moth¬ 
er told me so!” 

V/hiter than the dogwood blossom, sweeter than it 
e’er could be— 

Shown the truth of that vile whisper, for she did 
it all for me. 

And for sister girl and baby—Oh, the whisper— 


- 27 - 







it was base 

But a soul was born to heaven from that lowly 
old wash place. 

Why, it doesn’t seem that mother was quite grown 
up when she died 

Such a little bit o’ mother! Oh, the years are long 
and wide 

Since she went away and left us, with the old smile 
on her face, 

Leaving us but just a memory of the homely old 
wash place; 

I know father beckoned to her; by the look that 
overcast 

Her sweet face; but we still miss her—shall as 
long as life shall last. 


- 20 - 









REVERIE 


(On reading “The Old Wash Place'')- 

There are pictures drawn by artists, with the brush 
and with the pen, 

That have thrilled the very nations, and have stirred 
the hearts of men. 

But I think the sweetest pictures we have ever seen 
or heard 

Are the ones drawn by the heartstrings that are 
painted word by word. 

Such a picture lies before me, painted by a loyal son; 

I can see it. Oh, so plainly, for so well it has been 
done. 

I can see the little mother, with the face so young 
and fair. 

With the smile so full of sunshine, dogwood blossoms 
in her hair. 

As she flits about the wash place, softly singing in 
her joy 

Lullabies that charm her hearers, babe and sister 
girl and boy. 

I can hear a redbird's whistle, even on the very day 

When that last farewell waved fondly from the 
ranks of men in gray. 


- 29 - 








I can see the little nestlings, that dear little brood 
of three, 

In the steam of the old wash place, watching mother 
earnestly 

While she toils with “tubs and kettle and the soap 
gourd and the stick’'. 

In the meantime singing bravely, while her heart 
grew faint and sick. 

But those little bright-eyed darlings must not feel 
the sting of war; 

So she strove to carol gaily, just as she had done 
of yore. 

I can feel the solemn stillness that throughout the 
morning lay. 

When there came the cruel message, dashing all her 
hopes away; 

When the birds forgot to warble forth their wonted 
melodies. 

And the flowers shed the teardrops that had fallen 
from the skies; 

I can see her in the wash place, kneeling there among 
the three. 

For their sakes so bravely facing this, her soul’s 
Gethsemane. 

Oh, ye world of restless mothers, what can give you 
sweeter bliss 

Than to leave your sons and daughters memories 


- 30 - 









^of 






that equal this? 

To what greater heights aspire you, little mothers 
young and fair, 

Than those reached while you are kneeling with 
your little ones in prayer. 

Than to be as this dear mother, worthy of a dia¬ 
dem— 

Ah, the one who scorned her efforts, may not touch 
her garment's hem. 

This old world is but a wash place, where we labor 
day by day. 

Where the Prince of Earth and Heaven came to wash 
our sins away; 

And the sweetness of His patience, and the young¬ 
ness of His years. 

Make our hearts to ache with pity, and our eyes 
to fill with tears. 

Oh, the joy that He is risen, and beyond the jasper 
sea 

'Mid the Father's many mansions, doth prepare for 
such as she. 

There when earthly tasks are ended, through His 
mercy and His grace. 

One by one His saints shall gather, from this steamy 
old wash place. 









CHRISTMAS TIDE 


Turn ye away from your hearth fires bright, 
Women and men of the world, tonight; 

Cease for a moment, your jest and mirth, 

Hark to the message of ‘Teace on Earth''. 

Join ye the shepherds who watch their sheep 
Tending their fires lest they fall asleep; 

Under the arch of the star-lit sky. 

Hear ye, the ‘‘Glory to God on High". 

Take just a glimpse of the heavenly throng 
Joyously chanting the glad, new song. 

Out of the midst of those realms of light. 

Know that your Savior is born tonight. 


- 32 - 







TO A FRIEND 


There is no flock, however watched and tended, 
But one dead lamb is there. 

There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended, 

But has one vacant chair. 

—Longfellow. 


We weep with you in your dark despair, 

Because of your fireside's vacant chair; 

Because from your arms a dear form has slipped, 
And into the grave, the wee feet have tripped; 

But we know, in the City with streets of gold. 

The sweet spirit is safe in the upper fold. 

Beyond the shores of the Jasper Sea, 

From sorrow and pain of earth set free, 

A heavenly cherub with love-lit eyes. 

Looks forth from the gateway of Paradise; 

A heavenly cherub whose baby face 
Is filled with the joy of that holy place. 

Picture him there in that beautiful spot 
'Mid banks of blooming forget-me-not. 

By the sweet, clear river of life he stands, 

And beckons to you with his baby hands. 

From those gates of pearl and those streets of gold 
Where your darling is safe in the upper fold. 


- 33 - 








JUNE 


Oh what is more sweet than the month of June 
When our senses thrill and our hearts keep tune 
To the song of the birds and the rose in bloom? 

Oh what is more joy than the early gray 
Of the dewy morn and the sun’s first ray 
That herald the dawn of a perfect day? 

Oh what is more fair as the sun climbs high 
Than the azure hue of the summer sky 
And the snow-white clouds drifting idly by? 

Oh what is more pure than the summer air 
That wafts from the woodlands and gardens fair 
A fragrance and perfume so rich and rare? 

Oh what is more dear than the twilight hour 
When the daylight fades and each nodding flower 
Is kissed by the moonbeams’ mystic power? 

0, Summer Queen! you are gone too soon 
With your sunny days and your shining moon, 

With your golden grain and your wealth of bloom. 

And if we could hold in some magic way 
To your trailing robes for a single day, 

Dear month of June, we would bid you stay. 








■S'^fDoC^ 



A GINGERBREAD STORY 


I love to note a baby’s way 

The grace of childhood is so sweet. 

I gave a tiny friend, one day, 

A piece of gingerbread to eat, 

And 1, much pleasure gained the while 
To see the happy little smile. 

Then straightway I forgot the act 
As usually I do, in fact. 

A few days more, the same wee tot 
Tapped softly at my kitchen door. 

Some ripe tomatoes he had brought 
As he had often done before. 

I chatted as I took his pan 
While through my brain the question ran. 
If there was anything I had 
With which to please the little lad. 

I asked if he liked honey, sweet, 

Knowing some children prize the treat. 
“Not wery well,” he shyly said. 

Then boldly raised his little head. 

While bravely forth his wee voice rings, 
“But I like gingerbread and things.” 

Was ever baby tact more sweet? 

Swiftly I ran with flying feet. 


- 35 - 








Almost afraid to lift the lid 
For fear no gingerbread it hid. 

That baby faith, I must not shake— 

Oh joy, there’s one small piece of cake! 







A KANSAS PRAYER 


0, Lord of mercy, draw Thou near, 

A suppliant nation’s prayer to hear. 

With troubled hearts we come to Thee 
With visions dim that cannot see. 

With lips that know not what to say; 
Teach us, our Father, how to pray. 

Dark clouds of war above us spread. 

Dire symbols of distress and dread; 

And stand we with reluctant feet 
The awful sacrifice to meet. 

Oh, fill us with a fire divine 

And let our will submerge in Thine! 

There comes to us across the sea, 
Oppression’s cry for liberty. 

Help us no longer to withhold 
Naught we can give of script or gold. 
Help us to send our armies strong— 

Let Freedom be their battle song. 

Our sons, dear Lord, our hearts grow cold 
More precious far than all our gold. 

Grant these we give with love and trust 
Shall triumph in a cause so just. 

Gird with Thine armor, every one, 

0, Thou who gave Thine only Son! 


- 37 - 









All through the thickest of the fight, 

All through the long hours of the night, 

May we, 0 Lord, Thy watchtowers keep. 

Nor for one moment fall asleep. 

Till breaks the dawn when strife shall cease— 
The dawn of universal peace. 


— 38 -“ 







OUR HEROES 


(1917-1918) 

The year is passed, the guns are stilled 
The year of grief and pain. 

The lads we gave to Liberty 
Are coming home again. 

With throbbing hearts that seem to quell 
The mighty cannon's roar, 

We wait for footsteps loved so well. 

To greet them at the door. 

With tears of joy we lift the latch 
Once more to clasp our own. 

Praise God, who kept our lads for us 
And brought them safely home. 

But some come not; in foreign fields 
They fell 'mid poppies red. 

Or in the camp or 'neath the wave; 

They tell us they are dead. 

Believe it not. They did not die— 

Our lads who gave their all. 

For there were “Everlasting Arms" 

To save them from the fall. 

While holy angels softly swept 
Across the land and sea 
And gently bore their spirits home 
To live eternally. 


- 39 - 







TWO MOTHERS 


A mother smiled as she waved goodbye 
And tried to stifle the pain 
As she thought of the many weary days 
Ere they should come back again. 

She knew that her heart did not bid them stay 
For proud and happy was she, 

That each had eagerly entered the fray 
In the struggle for liberty. 

She prayed as they passed from her misty sight, 
“Dear Father, protect from harm 
Our sailor boys in the cause for right. 

By the strength of Thy mighty arm; 

And when their ship shall be tempest tossed 
And the rolling waves leap high. 

As they bear supplies to yon fighting host, 

May they know that Thou art nigh. 

“Draw near at the beautiful sunset hour 
When the calm waves ripple green. 

To strip that hand of its deadly power 
That aims from the submarine. 

Be Thou their guide while they prove their worth; 

Oh, sweet is the thought to me. 

That when our Savior walked on this earth. 

He likewise walked on the sea.'^ 


- 40 - 









Wild and rocky the pathway was 
American mothers trod 
As they daily strove to help the cause 
By keeping it close to God; 

And when the victorious message came 
From the stricken fields of war 
Their praise upwafted with one acclaim 
Resounded from shore to shore. 

“Praise God,” they sang, “for our stalwart sons, 
Give praise for our native land. 

For the blessings of liberty and love— 

The emblems for which we stand.” 

And the sailors' mother, with happy tears 
Greeted each returning son 
For well she knew that the coming years 
Would revere their work, well done. 

As they bent to kiss her upturned face 
Their hearts seemed to understand. 

And they told her tales of from place to place 
They had touched in a foreign land. 

With seldom a word of sickness or pain 
Or the hardships of war, now done; 

Of the long hours spent in the pouring rain 
On watch or behind the gun. 

But often she questioned from da> to day 
And carefully gleaned the rest, 


-4 1 - 







And that was the part which she hid away 
In the depths of her loving breast, 

Once when she asked of the ocean storm 
Of how terrible it might be, 

They spoke of a sailor who came to harm 
Of a comrade lost at sea. 

How his fragile form had been snatched away 
On the crest of a mighty wave. 

Beyond the reach of their wind-tossed craft 
Or their human power to save. 

And the mother's heart gave a throb of pain. 

Of pity and sympathy 
For the lad, and that other she did not know. 

His mother—oh, where was she? 

Did she plead in vain in an earthly home 
Bowed low on her bended knee, 

‘'0, Father, send aid through the ocean's foam 
To rescue my boy for me?" 

Or did she reach forth from the heavenly gate 
From those realms of endless day. 

And whisper, “Dear Lord, 'tis so long to wait; 
Bear him safely home, I pray?" 

God only knows, for we cannot tell. 

Just plead as to us seems best 
To a loving Father, who doeth well. 

And trust unto Him, the rest; 

For He that heareth the orphan's cry 


- 42 - 









And noteth the sparrow’s fall, 
Will not the mothers of men pass by, 
But tenderly care for all. 


- 43 - 








CHRISTMAS CAROL 


Long ago the holy angels 

Sang from the skies of glory bright, 
O’er the drowsy shepherds v/atching 
By their silent flocks at night, 

And their song was '‘Glory, glory. 
Glory be to God on high. 

Peace and good will to His children,” 
Rang the chorus from the sky. 

And an angel told the story, 

“Joyful tidings do we bring 
God has sent to earth from heaven, 
Christ, your Savior, and your King. 
Go and seek in yonder village. 

Hasten and be not afraid. 

He is born among the lowly 
And is in a manger laid.” 

Ages pass, but not the story 
By the shining angel told, 

’Tis man’s greatest gift and blessing 
And it never shall grow old. 

And the children love to hear it 
Best of all at Christmastide, 

The sweet story of the Christ child. 
Whose dear name was glorified. 


- 44 - 








And within the many churches 
That are builded in His name, 
With glad gifts to one another 
Do we honor Him again 
While thousands of children's voices 
Sing His glory and His love 
As the holy angels sang it 
From the shining skies above. 

Tis by far the sweetest music 
Mortal ears have heard since then, 
Happy childish voices chanting 

“Peace on earth, good will to men." 
O’er the earth resounds the anthem 
“Glory be to God on high. 

Peace and good will to His children" 
Rings the echo from the sky. 


- 45 - 








KANSAS 


Do you know where the sun shines brightest 
Out in the golden west; 

Do you know where the snow falls whitest 
The land that I love the best; 

Do you know where the skies are bluest 
Bending above the plain; 

Do you know where the hearts are truest 
Bidding you come again ? 

Do you know where the flowers are fairest 
Crimson, purple and gold; 

Do you know where the fruits are rarest 
Bestowing a wealth untold; 

Do you know where the birds sing sweetest 
Ever along the way, 

Bespeaking a joy the completest 
Caroling all the day? 

Do you know where the waving sunflower 
Nods to the passer by; 

Do you know where the prairie sunset 
Flames over earth and sky; 

Do you know—but ah, you have guessed it 
And do not need to be told; 

'Tis Kansas! your eyes have expressed it, 
The land that will never grow old. 


- 46 - 

3477-133 
Lot IK 







« ^ . 


•• ♦ 


f- 


f . ■* 

r\ 


n 










C)0^ 






X 















t 



‘ « 






-r ^ 

^ 4 .“^ * ’^» ^ 

oV • - ^ 0 ^ 



. 0 '^ 6 ®"®^ 

o • 


; ^-l 

' <.K o „o 

.'ri'. - 

^ *'o,»*" G^ ^ '^v'T^r.' V 

’ ,->2.^^ 4 *'' * -» /-O^ o ® " • ^ 

v^ ^ -^N ♦ 

G > • " ^ 0 ^ 




* <0 

O ^ 

* N,' 

ct^ * • < 1 ,” ^ ' 

^ *' O « O ® O^ ♦ . , , 

%> • V^ f 




^>*• *“ 


oK 


v' .;•”- Jx*) 



O N O 














% ^ A^ ‘ 

• O y • 

* <0 * *10 

'^ ♦ /^ '"^'I\\nS^ ' N.™ •■ 

• xV A° V * 0 ..’ ^ O,, *••’•' 

,v' *'•». S' .o'^ ’i.^;;^* v' .’•»- ^ 

^ '~A°^ V :®‘'- •^"- 

^ ^ A aV 

..»’ x'> -e-x 'o..* .0^ 05 ^ ,^ 

•»•- .<^' . X ... 

_ _ x-^"^ x‘:< 


c#* "* ^ 

'^ ^ . . «* A <. 'o , * ' 

♦ '^O A^ •••'** 

^ ^ *' ^JT?^ -r ^ 

lA 4*"^ ** I/yyZ/^^2^^ ^ ^ 



* - 
’ / 'V '' 


aS^' 

'^; A P 



' s"'’ 

o V 

^ ’TV CTeacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
► ^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 

Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

r\\\ Mfc //K _ - 1 % W r.,^jnjjn[|v^.,^ - uinoi t\ i CAncD lu rni 1 cmnue ddcccduatiau 


I n 



O VP_ Xr^iilll^ A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION c'? 

< » « ' 111 Thomson Park Drive G 

® °%//^^\^ * Cranberry Township, PA 16066 ^ 

* ^ •» V^^NF ♦ (724)779-2111 -<» 


■'=w. .A 






^n C'^^' 

/ /%.'.^S* 

. A <v "^Tl'*" <0^ - o -o.,- vv. <v 

A^ C^®-» 0 ^ fc’'''^'» ^-> 

% ^^=sSo\\*<» ^ JT/yZo^ ^ <N % 5 ^sSS\\T\^*^ 



) * 7 ^ 



HO 


• o 


» ♦ 



•** 




"'vc ^ 


* ^■^'' •» 



iV ' 

’ aO' 

aV .’•»' ^ V ** 

'#'„ /jaWa!" ' 


•IC 


* • 


’ O"^ 


o • A 




'>t-v O 

o V 





.* ■Sy^ 

" v^ ^' 7 ^.*" <G 

- ^ O ^ ^ Q V ♦ ^ O 

< .<S5W.^ ‘ .^.. ,, 


*^’ aO^ \ y °-^ *"“■’ *0 



** A '• 


. . * A <» 

A 0 °' •« 

<N % 

>v^ 





y 



Vv^ 


y. •. 



^ G j. 

. 0 ^ 

• 4 O. 

> ^ y<- 

^o 0 N 0 £,^^i* * 



0 ^ t*‘’J>L'’, "^5 1 *^ ^ 



' 

'^o ^ : 





« J°-%. V ^ 

V **>•'» '<^,. A*)'^ 'l*^' V ^»jL’‘ 

A^ ♦ ^113^ • ♦((CCsrA o ^ Iiii 

V o ,^^1111118^ r ^ncP • ® V <» ^ !!ll 




























